S Words
by LissieKay
Summary: He'd always been a fan of s words. Skimpy, sex. Yet lately his favorites were changing. Morphing as she molded and sculpted and just messed with him. He was becoming better for her, different for her, altogether her's. And sensitive was suddenly good.


He'd always been a visual person. Visually stimulated that was. In every sense of the phrase; even the one that made him snicker and smirk and do that whole grin and nod thing that made women blush. He liked short dresses. Short skirts. Short shorts. Anything short really. And skimpy. Skimpy tops, skimpy dresses, skimpy bikinis … oh yes, skimpy bikinis. Of course, that brought up a certain image that was part of the official Dinozzo memory bank of stuff he couldn't ever forget, and that brought a whole bunch of other tagged images with it.

S's were good words for him really. The skimpy and the short, but also the sweat, the sun, the scent, the sex. The sex, the best s word ever. He was sure of it. Or at least he had been sure of it. Lately the position of best s word was seemingly up for grabs. Cause there definitely hadn't been any sex. Not any he had been participating in anyways. Hell, he wasn't even sure if there had been any of the other s words lately either. He wasn't noticing because his s words were all being replaced and interchanged and turned on end and if it wasn't so damn _satisfying _he'd be annoyed. But the new s words were so much better than the old ones that he just couldn't-

"Sex?" The single word made him snap his head up and drill Ziva with a stare. His glare was great, he was sure of it, his voice though was decidedly shaky.

"What?"

"Sex," and the way she caressed that word with just the right amount of emphasis on the vowels and the x- "It could be the motive, yes?" Point goes to Ziver cause he was lost.

"Sex is always the motive. So cliché. I mean really, not everyone can have good enough sex for someone to kill over." And just like that she was across the bullpen and leaning against his desk. Pushing against his desk with her shirt creating a tunnel only inches too high for him to-

"That does mean that some sex is good enough to kill over?"

"Sure." Noncommittal Dinozzo, draw her out. Her head cocked to the side and she lent forward another inch.

"No doubt you-"

"Obviously," he grinned and her eyebrows went up. "A single homicide for some good sex is no big deal. Now if we're talking double or triple here … more exclusive class."

"So not you." Blatant, to the point, anyone would think she had missed the joke. He knew better though, that twinkle in her eye, the body posture just this side of inappropriate, the way she was biting her lip to distract him, and it was working of course … Ziva got the joke. And was making an entirely new beast out of it.

"No, me. But only with certain people." Pause for dramatic effect, he counted to three as he watched her exhale and felt, _felt, _her breath on his cheeks. "You and me for instance-"

Her eyes swept down, up, elevator eyes, naughty Ziva, and then she smirked at him. Two seconds later she had flounced back over to her desk, dropped into her chair and was looking like she'd finally been told she could kill the guy that always put cream in her coffee.

"Only a triple homicide?" He blinked at her, lost, again as she went off on some tangent he hadn't even seen yet. Sometimes he thought her brain was hardwired in Hebrew, and that hardwiring was weird compared to American and he just didn't have the same wires crossed as she did. Her wires zigzagged in all these crazy spider web patterns. His looked like pencils and pens all lined up in a new box. Stuff just got lost in translation sometimes.

"We would have to kill Gibbs," she nonchalantly stated and he snapped his head up.

"What?"

"For breaking the rule. And Abby. She would kill us for killing Gibbs."

"McGee," he threw out, turning back to typing so he wouldn't have to watch her _suck _on her fingertip as she thought.

"McGee?"

"Mmm."

"Why McGee?"

"Cause if we're going on a killing spree we're killing McGee. Sex and McGee just don't go together." She nodded after a second of thought, and went back to nibbling at her fingernail. She had to quit that, it was distracting him to no end.

"Alright. We will kill McGee. Vance also, yes? Perhaps we can leave Ducky alive though, I would hate to kill Ducky."

"Doesn't matter, we're already past triple homicide. Moved on to mass murder! Oh boy!" She smirked when he winked at her and then spun her chair to look at her monitor. The elevator dinged and McGee walked out, some blond trailing behind him looking lost. He bit his tongue when McGee looked at him with a 'I'm dying here. Help, drowning, cannot compute' look, and refrained from commenting about lost things following McGee around often.

"It would be very good yes?" He blinked and looked back to Ziva. She wasn't even looking at him. Staring straight at her computer screen, blank expression firmly on. The snappy retort died in his throat when she shifted sideways, and the mask fell for just a split second. He saw Ziva then, the one that had stared at him in a cell in Africa, broken and tired. The one that had apologized and whispered that she trusted him. The one that he adored deep down and that was replacing all his raunchy s's with more satisfying words.

"Zi," he let his expression soften, forced his face to be open when her eyes met his, "it would be superb."

Only seconds passed before she responded, still looking at him with something that looked a whole lot like fondness in her eyes.

"It would be even better than that I think." Her words were so soft he was sure he had imagined them. Just another specter his too imaginative brain was conjuring up for him. Something else that connected to the Ziva in skimpy swimsuit image he still obsessed over. She'd kill him if she knew how much he'd pay to have a copy of that dang picture. But she wasn't just staring at her computer, or grinning at him with that coy expression that always got him halfway to 'need room, bed, time'. And Ziva. He always needed Ziva. Preferably in the room, on the bed, in some state of undress, or dress if she was wearing his clothes, and lots and lots and lots of time.

There was none of that now though. No, she was just tilting her head at him, waiting on him to say something he supposed. And the obvious comeback died in his throat, he couldn't bite out 'wanna try?' with a snarky expression because that would bring back her snarky expression and he wasn't sure he wanted that back. He liked this open look she was going for. With sweet eyes, and soft muscles, and swept back hair and just … soft. So instead of the suggestive waggle of the eyebrows and the comment that would get her hackles up quicker than he could finish his sentence, he propped his chin on his palm and leaned towards her.

"Only with you."

"What?"

"Only with you would it be better than superb." And he wondered if she got that he was trying to say that no one measured up to her. That the others always fell short of the mark when he tried to stack them up. There was always the 'Ziva has' phrase pushing through his mind, or 'Ziva does' or 'Ziva thinks' or 'Ziva is'. They just didn't cut it. Not like she did.

"Only us." She corrected and he couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face with those two words because yeah, she got it, and damn it, the look she was giving him right now was downright _sensitive. _Her lips all smiling, her eyes sparkling, her face soft and content and just … _sensitive. _It might even replace sex as his favorite s word.

"Yeah Ziva," he fondly mumbled, with the tone he used on only her, "only us."


End file.
